I’m back from Bonnaroo, though still not fully recovered – I’m very reluctant to get back into my usual routine of healthy whole foods, work, and daily exercise of some kind. Yesterday it seemed that I needed to wean myself off my Bonnaroo diet slowly, (homemade doughnuts, pizza, cheese veggie burgers) and today I just continued that, reasoning that working a full day justified not eating as healthily as usual.
Truth be told, while I was at this four-day music festival, where everyone around me just indulged in whatever seemed to suit their fancies (minus, thankfully, electronic devices and plus lots of walking around) I questioned the sanity of my usual self – I’d been nervous for weeks that I would lose all the work I’d done in four days. In my mind, I imagined morning yoga, sneaking away for runs, and politely declining all food I knew would wreck my life. One of those three things actually happened.
Lindsay and I went to yoga on Friday morning after setting up our campsite the day before. It was 9 a.m. and most people had over-indulged the previous night, but there were still about 300 people there. We picked a spot and listened to the instructor, who’d come from New York and was positively giddy about being asked to teach yoga at Bonnaroo. He talked us through a 45-minute practice while his wife demonstrated on stage. After such a long hiatus from yoga for me, it felt great to get back into it around all the shared positive energy.
In the book they gave us when we set up camp, the message from the organizers said running was not allowed, which I interpreted to mean morning jogs, perhaps selfishly. I used it as an excuse to not run and get ever sweatier and smellier, as it would have cost $7 to shower afterwards. I did see several runners there, but I was content to walk and be on my feet all day, although it certainly did nothing for my fitness level.
Then there was the food. Oh, the food. And the drink. We’d bought much too much beer to drink over a four-day weekend, and that wasn’t even the worst (best?) of it: in addition to the not-so-healthy snacks we’d brought (bread, cheese, chocolate, pop tarts) there were some amazing food vendors there inside Centeroo – there was Roberta’s pizza, a famous New York pizzeria that served a beautiful thin pie with fresh mozzarella and basil, usual fair-style foods like funnel cake and pretzels (which we at least split between the four of us) and the best thing I’d ever eaten, a homemade doughnut from the Amish Baking Company, the size of my face and the scent of heaven. We passed by the doughnut stand, where they were waiting, giant and warm, on a wooden pole. All of us smelled them immediately, but Lindsay was the one who stopped and insisted we try one. We bought one to share, but by the time it was finished, we were already in line for two more.
Overall, it was a beautiful experience. I’m glad that I’m only speaking of it from a health perspective now, because there’s so much to say about it – we did so much (fake beard contest, sent postcards, rode ferris wheels, cooked on a camping grill, saw so many bands and came back to the tents full of songs every night) that it’s hard to compile everything and talk about how I felt about each amazing thing we did. When Tim and Lindsay left on Monday morning and Ryan and I sat down for breakfast, we wrote a timeline of everything we did and every band we saw while it was fresh in our minds. It filled three 8 x 11 pages. I’ll stick it in my journal so we’ll have it. I love writing things down – it makes for such interesting reading later, and I’m glad I’ll get to reminisce with Ryan.
But here I am again, in the real world, and next year is far far away. It’s time to get back to my exercise and eating habits. Kickboxing is tomorrow morning again – I can’t say I’m not a little hesitant to go back after a week away from heavy physical activity, but I know I won’t regret it.